


two birds

by zefive



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Papyrus Has Issues, soft angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-12
Updated: 2017-01-12
Packaged: 2018-09-17 01:45:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9298772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zefive/pseuds/zefive
Summary: there is a wire, and there are two brothers.





	

**Author's Note:**

> [inspiration](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0oGrwGCRImY)  
>  not proofread.

 

_one tries to fly away-_

 

The surface is everything they've ever dreamed of.

The sky is vast and endless, blue and black and colours neither of them has ever seen a sky be; bright red and faded gold, and freckled pink, like a child's picture, painted with vigour and no regard for the laws of nature.

Sans falls in love like that- the sunset meets him, greets him, embraces him like he has never belonged anywhere else, and the soul inside him warms, brightens, until he feels as if he's never known sadness before.

Papyrus' smile is brittle, but no one notices.

 

The surface is not kind, but it is not unkind either- there is talks and negotiations, and Sans listens raptly, standing beside Toriel and Asgore like he belongs there, like he has royalty in his soul-blood.

Sometimes, he will look back, catch a simple glimpse of his brother, and every time he wonders if he is missing something. If he is taking misstep after misstep, if he's leaving something behind.

Then Papyrus catches him looking, and smiles like the sun is inside his skull, like he is sunfire bottled in bone, and Sans doesn't think more of it.

Frisk catches Papyrus' hand, and touches the spot between his first two ribs, a look on their face like broken eggshells.

Papyrus smiles. He doesn't seem to know how to stop.

 

It becomes life inch by inch, tired morning by tired morning, and they learn humanity slowly, like children, and Sans takes to it, because the sun is warm and he is happy.

There are still moments, gaps where it is like they are still Underground, like they are still trapped beneath stone and rock and humanity's hatred- but those are just days, just moments, and the sun is still there, still warm and bright and embracing. In his head, Sans calls it _home_.

He is not the only one, who embraces the Surface as if it is a missing piece, as if it all they have ever wanted- which it is, because monsterkind has dreamt of the Surface for decades, centuries, and it is the piece they have longed for, the last bone in their soul.

Happiness is a flower, watered and fed and thriving beneath the sun, and Sans never considers the fact that flowers grow in dirt, that eventually, one must wither and fade.

Sans, his own soul in his own two hands, forgets about Papyrus.

 

As children, they had promised forever.

They had been beneath rock and dirt, and hatred and fear, and still they had _meant it_. When Sans had said _together forever_ , he had meant it with ever fibre of his soul, with every inch of magic he possessed. And when Papyrus had echoed it back, he had said it with magic and belief and it had been a vow stronger than them.

In the end, forever really means nothing at all.

 

It becomes this:

Sans leaves in the early morning, sun warm on his back, and Papyrus watches him go.

The house is empty, and it is quiet, and it is like being trapped beneath rock and dirt and thousand years of claustrophobia, and Papyrus misses the mountain like he misses himself.

The sun is warm and bright and embracing, and Papyrus draws the curtains, and sits down in the dark, because home is far away, but this is almost good enough.

The house is empty, and it is silent, and Papyrus smiles, because he has nothing else to give.

He does not believe in happiness. Flowers do not grow in darkness, and they do not grow in stone, or in bone, and Papyrus has no place inside him for flowers.

Flowers do not grow in dust, no matter how hard you try.

 

It creeps up on Sans, slow and careful, like claws on wood and teeth on bone, and one day, Frisk asks where Papyrus is.

Sans, warm with sunshine and happiness, and good company, freezes like he has been struck.

 

“I'm tired,” is what Papyrus' says, when Sans stands in the kitchen and asks why he never joins them.

Sans is cautious and unsure, and happiness is a wound behind his soul, a flaw inside him.

He cannot lose it.

“are you sure?” Sans asks, stares at Papyrus like that means something. Like the soul-blood they share matters.

Papyrus smiles; blood is blood, and water is water, and wires break, given enough time. The sun is warm, but a flower cannot thrive when it is holding onto the dead.

Sans believes him then, like the blind fool he is.

 

The house is empty, and it is dark, and sunshine shies from it like it is dead, like it is rot and decay.

Sans stands at the doorstep, hands empty and soul frail, and happiness is a flower, you see, and flowers die.

When he runs, he runs to the Mountain.

 

There is decades of blood beneath the mountain.

A thousand and more years of misery and sadness, and flowers dying beneath the rock and the dirt, and Sans stumbles as his feet hits snow, as the sun leaves his back.

He yells for his brother.

The wire is straining beneath his feet, and he runs like he has never run before, magic reaching and reaching, straining at the edges of his bones.

Their house is dark, and it is quiet, and Sans slams the door open, like it is not home at all.

“papyrus!” he yells, and flowers has never grown bone, or in dust- no matter how hard you try, they never take root, and they never flourish.

Sans screams.

The wire snaps.

 

_-the other says he wants to as well_

_but he is a liar._

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> two birds will never not give me Papyrus feels, and that is a fact.  
> (i have no excuse or reason for writing this. it just happened, and since i haven't finished _anything_ in forever, i've posted it. who cares, right? ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Bravery](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11210442) by [canbreathe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/canbreathe/pseuds/canbreathe)




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